


Voicemails from Peter Parker

by irondad_and_spiderson



Series: Running up that hill [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Temporary Character Death, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, Voicemail, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 14:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18662080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irondad_and_spiderson/pseuds/irondad_and_spiderson
Summary: Since Germany, Peter had called him frequently, leaving weekly reports about his patrols as Spiderman. Tony had hoarded them like a squirrel, every message, every article, every video that popped up online, keeping a close eye at all times. He’d thought that staying out of Peter’s hero life would protect him, that those weekly lab sessions would be enough to stop Peter asking about when the next ‘Avengers saving the world’ thing was going to be. The messages he’s never replied to, just saved into a file labelled ‘Peters 18th’ because there was definitely enough funny and embarrassing stuff in there for Tony to bring up and torment the kid with.But Peter was never going to turn 18.Peter was never going to leave another voicemail.





	Voicemails from Peter Parker

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a quick one shot that somehow turned into 4K words and I honestly don't even know how.  
> This is very un-beta'd.  
> Not necessary to read 'If I only could' before this but they take place in the same universe.  
> Enjoy <3

The lab is exactly how he’d left it. Half empty cups of cold coffee scattered around on different work benches, an old suit arm still propped up, abandoned in the middle of rewiring, tools sprinkled around it. Screens with diagrams and sketches and notes still flicker dimly on the walls. A fine layer of dust covers every surface. The air filtration system had broken, and Tony had been meaning to fix it, but Pepper had insisted he get out for some fresh air with her instead. It feels like a lifetime ago.

 

There’s one desk in the corner of the room and Tony feels his throat constrict and his chest tightens because he _can’t look at it_ , and unfallen tears burn in his eyes. He doesn’t look. He’s not ready to yet.

 

He picks up his abandoned Starkpad from another desk, the thing somehow still has battery and the screen lights up and Tony almost drops it and the room is sucked of all its air.

 

_(2)Missed calls from Peter Parker._

_(1)New voicemail from Peter Parker._

Tony scrambles to the nearest chair, his heart racing with the thought that makes no logical sense that _Peter is still alive._

 

Then he reads the date.

 

His heart sinks back into his stomach. Two months ago. It’s like losing him all over again.

 

Tony sits for a long time; his forehead resting against the cool desktop and tries to remember how to breathe.

 

Since Germany, Peter had called him frequently, leaving weekly reports about his patrols as Spiderman. Tony had hoarded them like a squirrel, every message, every article, every video that popped up online, keeping a close eye at all times. His throat feels tighten again, he’d thought that staying out of Peter’s hero life would protect him, that those weekly lab sessions would be enough to stop Peter asking about when the next ‘Avengers saving the world’ thing was going to be. The messages he’s never replied to, just saved into a file labelled ‘Peters 18th’ because there was definitely enough funny and embarrassing stuff in there for Tony to bring up and torment the kid with.

 

But Peter was never going to turn 18.

 

Peter was never going to leave another voicemail.

 

It’s all that’s left. The last message Peter would ever send, and Tony can’t bring his shaking hands to press play.

 

That tidal wave of guilt washes over him all over again and he feels like drowning. He wishes that he could’ve have picked up Peter calls, listened to the fifteen-year-old ramble on about fifteen-year-old things because he was _only fifteen._ Tony feels like falling apart all over again. Like the same moment Steve had met him on the grounds of the compound and the only thing he could say, after almost a month in space, being hours from death, was ‘ _I lost the kid’._

 

If he could go back, he would never ever miss a call from Peter again, he would always be there for him, a friendly voice at the end of the line, no matter what time of day, no matter where he was.

 

He’ll never miss a call from Peter again because Peter is never going to call him again. Not ever.

 

-x-

 

 _“Hey Mr Stark, I’ve got a really important question. So basically when I was out on patrol today the was this little kid, he can’t have been older than four or five Mr Stark and he said he was lost and he just wouldn’t stop crying and I didn’t know what to do so obviously I bought him an ice-cream because I didn’t want him to be all sad Mr Stark but it’s been super-hot today and naturally the ice-cream melted everywhere, oh my god Mr Stark, you wouldn’t believe how much mess this kid made and I was carrying him around and well I found his mom and she was really nice and the kid said that Spiderman was his favourite superhero which is like, the coolest thing ever but uh, is the suit machine washable Mr Stark because I don’t think I can go around with Hunk a Hulk of Burnin’ Fudge all over my side I’ve already started attracting wasps! Karen says it’ fine but I thought I would check. So, uh, yeah. Can I put the suit in the washing machine or is that a big no-no?”_  


-x-

 

The compound is full of ghosts. They’re everywhere he looks, in every room, at every time of the day. And it’s not just the dead who are ghosts in this place. Steve walks on eggshells around him, leaves a room when Tony enters, stops his conversations with Natasha whenever they make eye contact. Tony knows it’s because he blew up at him, he knows that Steve still blames himself for their failure to get the stones back, he knows he should tell him it wasn’t his fault, tell him about his own failures on Titan. He knows they have both lost so much, but Steve is giving him space, he doesn’t blame him for thinking that he needs to. Everything is still too fresh, the wound still raw.

 

Natasha still speaks to him, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes anymore, her words trailing off into silence and when she looks at him, it’s almost like she looks through him. She asks him to help write the speech for the UN because somehow, they have to explain where half the people on earth went. He doesn’t know how. He knows there are no words to comfort those who are left behind.

 

Maybe he should consider himself lucky, he still has Pepper after all. She’s barely holding him together these days and he still can’t shake the paranoia that he’s going to wake up one day and find her gone too. She’s being strong for his sake, he knows that. He doesn’t deserve her, her strength, her warmth, her love, but he doesn’t know how he could survive without it.

There are empty bedrooms that make Tony’s chest feel tight. Natasha had told him what had happened to Vision, to Wanda. He doesn’t ask what they did with the body, the only body that was left. Their empty rooms, side by side, he can barely look at them.

 

Then there’s Peter’s room.

 

He doesn’t know how he ends up at the door, eyes squeezed shut like if he stands there for long enough, he might hear something on the other side of it. That when he opens the door there will be Peter Parker sitting cheerfully under a pile of math homework, papers scattered all over the bed like everything will have been a bad dream.

 

It’s empty though like he knew it would be but hoped it wouldn’t. He stands in the doorway for a long time. The chair in the corner has a small pile of crumpled t-shirts on it, the bed isn’t made and there is a red hoodie discarded on the floor. He stares at it all, a teenage boy’s messy bedroom.

 

He steps forward and reaches down to pick up the hoodie when something on the desk catches his eye, a bright orange sticky note. Hoodie in hand he walks over to the desk and looks at it.

 

**_Thanks for this weekend, Mr Stark! I’ve got my field trip next week so won’t be here Friday for lab but see you in two weeks! Spidey-out!_ **

 

There’s a little drawing of the Spiderman mask and the Iron Man mask next to each other, and a smiley face at the very bottom of the note. Tony clutches it to his chest along with the hoodie.

 

The material is soft as he presses his face against it, there’s the faint smell of whatever laundry detergent May uses, the scent of cologne because all teenagers want so desperately to be is an adult, mixed with school cafeteria food and car fumes from traffic. It’s like Peter could be right here with him like he could be hugging the kid right now. But it’s too little too late.

 

He doesn’t know why, in fact, he doesn’t know why he does anything these days, but he climbs into Peter’s bed and closes his eyes. Let’s that endless wave of sadness wash over him again and again as tears slip down his cheeks. He should have done better by Peter, but he never got the chance to tell him how much he cares, and now he never will.

 

He pushes away the memory of being adrift in space, of Nebula asking him ‘ _was he your son?’,_ of losing it completely, but never correcting her.

 

He slowly pulls out a phone from his pocket, opens up the folder recently renamed ‘Kid’ and picks a random recording and presses play.

 

 _“Hey Mr Stark,”_ Tony can’t fight the way his breath hitches every time he hears that.  

_“It’s not been super busy today, I stopped a lady from getting mugged but he kind of didn’t really mug her at all because I guess he must’ve seen Spiderman and decided that crime wasn’t in his best interests all things considered. But then there was this old lady who was trying to carry this great big TV up into her apartment, but the elevator was broken, I mean this thing was almost as big as she was. So I carried it up for her and then she asked me to stay for tea to thank me and I guess I’m just the worst at saying no, but she had the BEST homemade cookies, Mr Stark, even though they were kind of difficult to eat under my mask and she called me a ‘nice young lad’ and said I could come over anytime which I’m totally doing if it means free baked goods…unless you think that’s not a good idea with the whole trying to hide my identity stuff.”_

Of course, Peter had been the kind of hero to help anyone, to look out for the little guy, even if home furnishing wasn’t really in his job description. The kid was too nice for his own good and had definitely got him in trouble a couple of times because of it.

_“Anyway, I’ve got a Spanish test to study for tonight, uhh sorry you probably don’t care about that stuff. Um, bye, Mr Stark.”_

 

That guilty feeling never goes away, because of course, he had cared, he’d do anything just to listen to Peter talk about mundane things. Had he really made Peter think that he didn’t care about those parts of his life, that he didn’t care enough to want to know what he did outside of his superhero work? He wishes he could tell him he could listen to him ramble on forever, but he can’t. Peter is gone, and messages are like shadows lingering in the dark, a ghost he carries with him.

 

That’s where Pepper finds him several hours later, still clutching the hoodie tight to his chest even in sleep. She hates seeing the sadness return to his eyes as they come into focus when he realises where he is.

 

He looks at her like he knows, and he had known, of course, he had known.

 

“Tony,” her voice is barely above a whisper, “I’m pregnant.”

 

It feels right, finding out in the room of the kid he lost, being given a second chance to make things right.

 

-x-

 

_“Hey Mr Stark, I helped clear the road for an ambulance today, I know I don’t drive or anything yet but I just don’t understand why people don’t get their cars out of the way, like they think getting wherever their going is more important than, I don’t know, a freaking ambulance!”_

_“Hey Mr Stark, so I think the average number of cats I saved this week has gone up from five to eight, and not just ones getting onto dangerous ledges and stuff either. I keep having to get kitties from the middle of the road I think I’ve almost got hit by a car twice this week! Uh! Wait, forget I said that!”_

 

-x-

 

Tony has to be the strong one now, for Pepper, he needs to be there for her. He needs to do right by her. He needs to prove that he can do right by this kid. He needs to prove it to himself.

 

Designing the house is the easy part, even finding the plot of land isn’t that hard. Apparently, the name Stark can still get him almost anything he wants ( _but not the thing he wants the most)._

 

It’s the building where it gets tough. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s a distraction, doing everything by hand, doing everything himself until Natasha finds out and practically wrestles the tiling supplies for the new bathroom out of his hands and does the whole thing herself. Tony doesn’t like to admit it but she probably does a much better job of it than he ever could have.

 

It’s modestly sized, he doesn’t see the point of it being any bigger than it has to be. Originally the house had been closer to the lake until Pepper pointed out that maybe being so close to a body of water with a toddler might not be the best idea, and he dragged the whole design about a hundred yards further back from the water's edge.

 

He could have had someone else build the place, but it doesn’t feel right. Even if his back protests after four days bent over on the ground literally nailing the floorboards down by hand. Pepper doesn’t say anything, she just lets Tony get on with it. She probably thinks it’s helping him cope. She’s probably right.

 

He and Happy paint the walls and polish the floors in about a week apart from the one room that Tony paints by himself. The two tubs of dark red are just enough to cover the walls of what he tells himself is the spare bedroom, he ignores the way his chest twinges with sadness when he steps back to admire his work.

 

He finds the furniture for the baby’s room, the living room, bedrooms and Rhodey helps him move it all in. They install the kitchen unit together, both pretending they know exactly what they’re doing when in reality neither of them has plumbed a sink before in their lives. They only _almost_ flood the ground floor though, so Tony considers it a success.

 

There aren’t that many boxes to move in. Mostly clothes, towels, bedding and the like. Tony has never been that sentimental, he doesn’t have a lot of clutter that doesn’t revolve around the Ironman suits.

 

The last room at the compound Tony packs down is the lab, there’s more dust in there now compared to the last time he was here. He never did get around to fixing the ventilation system.

 

Peter’s desk is strewn with odds and ends, a half build drone for the spider suit, stacks of notes on web fluid – he had never understood why the kid preferred paper to a Starkpad – a few empty containers, a page full of doodles. A photo propped up against the desk lamp of Peter and two friends. He recognises the boy, Ned. Peter had called him his ‘ _man in the chair’_. The girl he doesn’t recognise, he doesn’t even know her name. He wonders what happened to them. He wishes he could ask Peter all about them.

 

It all goes in the box.

 

He looks around the rest of the lab. There isn’t much to bring, he’d kept a digital document of almost everything. DUM-E and U were going to live in his garage workshop, Rhodey was going to pick them up later this week.

 

He’s about to leave when he spots it. Tucked in the corner on a workbench is a photo. Tony doesn’t think twice before grabbing it. The day that Peter had told him that some kids were bullying him, saying how they didn’t believe the Stark Internship was real, that Tony Stark probably didn’t even know he existed. It had been Tony’s idea to take the photo. Of course, there had been a formal one, the two of them shaking hands with the fake internship certificate between them. But he’d liked this one better, the one that Pepper had taken when they’d been messing around, the certificate upside down, making rabbit ears above each other’s heads. Tears burn as he looks at Peter’s bright smile beaming out at him from that photo.

 

He doesn’t put it in the box, just tucks it under his arm instead.

 

-x-

 

He finally realises that he is terrified of being a dad. Peppers due date is only a month away and the sudden reality that  _yes, he is going to have a kid, yes he is going to be dad_ is simultaneously the best and worst feeling in the world.

 

He didn’t want to let her down, _her,_ a daughter, a mini Pepper, and he already loves her _so_ much his heart could burst. Which would be very unfortunate all things considered.

 

It doesn’t stop his mind from drifting back to the voicemail he listened to the other night.

 

 _“Mr Stark I...”_ There had been the sound of shuddering breaths down the line, the kid sounded like he was crying,

 

“ _I stopped a guy from mugging this old man and it’s fine I’m fine and the guy’s been arrested by the police, but he, he just,”_ There had a long pause and a deep breath,

_“I wasn’t expecting him to pull a gun on us and it was just like before with my Uncle Ben and I”_ another couple of long deep breaths

_“I thought I was going to freeze again and that…that I wouldn’t be able to save this guy and it just kind of…freaked me out I guess? I’m sorry I thought I should just let you know before you pick me up on some of your crazy surveillance looking pathetic curled up on a rooftop or something, not, not that I am!”_ he had muffled a groan and it was all Tony could do not to scream that he had could never think Peter was pathetic, that he was one of the strongest and bravest kids he knew.

 

_“Thanks, thanks again for the suit Mr Stark, I just…just thanks. Bye Mr Stark.”_

 

He wonders how many calls like this he had missed, how many opportunities had he had to be there for the kid and yet failed him time and time again? How many times was he going to fail his daughter? He can’t bear the thought that he might.

 

-x-

 

He brings in the box labelled Peter, and if Pepper sees it, she doesn’t say anything, and Tony takes it into the third bedroom. The room with the red painted walls.

 

He stacks the notes neatly in a drawer of the desk, leaving the one with the doodles on top, doodles of Spiderman fighting the bad guys (which Tony knows because Peter has helpfully labelled them ‘Bad Guys!!!’). The photo of Peter’s friends goes on the bedside table and the few t-shirts, hoodie and pair of jeans (that he’d found half shoved under the bed when he’d cleared out Peter’s old room) go in the big wooden wardrobe. There’s another slightly smaller box at the bottom of the big box and there’s a lump in his throat as he reads the words ‘For Peter’.

 

He pulls the would-be Christmas present out of the box and opens it. It’s an old gaming console, Peter had been sad because his one had broken, and Tony had thought that it would be a good gift, underneath it is a stack of games, Lego Star Wars, Lego Lord of the Rings, Sly Cooper, Ratchet and Clank. Tony had even been in the process of talking to SONY on making a playable version of their newest Lego Avengers game for this older model, he had even been going to ask them to add Spiderman as a character. None of that mattered now.

 

He puts the games and console on a shelf, even if there isn’t a TV to connect it up to, it just looks right having them sit there. It doesn’t make any sense and yet it does, that Peter should have a room here, that his kid, his first kid should always have a place to come to at his home, even if Peter isn’t coming home.

 

-x-

 

There’s one recording he keeps coming back to. Tony has his favourites, he tries not to think how fucked up it is that he has his favourite voicemails of his dead kid. Tony has finally accepted that he thinks. That Peter is not coming back. So, he holds on to what he has even tighter.

 

There’s one where Peter found a lost dog and played dog-sitter for half a day to it, getting into all kinds of mischief before the owner finally picked up his call from a payphone. Morgan likes that one a lot. She’s only three and it makes her giggle and it makes his heart swell up to see her so happy because of something that Peter did.

 

There’s a series of messages (he compiled them eventually) about Peter’s visits to the old lady whose TV he helped carry that one time. Every time he went, she baked something different and Peter had taken to describing them in way too much detail. He wonders if the lady is still around and if she wonders what happened to Spiderman.

 

There’s the one with the kid and the ice cream, which only makes Tony think about how good of a big brother Peter would have been.

 

And then there’s the one recording he keeps going back to. It’s a short one, and it’s not even a happy one.

 

 _“Hi, Mr Stark. Um so this week’s report is, uhh, well I stopped a couple of guys doing an armed robbery, one guy had this knife that must have been the size of my forearm and was able to shoot at it and yoink it out of his hand and ended up webbing them both up to a tree for the police to find. And, uh, there was that cat I rescued for an old guy on 111 thand… do you even listen to these voicemails Mr Stark?” _There’re several long seconds of silence, and every time Tony wants to tell him that he does, that he’s listened to some of them so many times he has them memorised.

_“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say that I just, I get it you know I’m just some kid from Queen’s who happens to have these weird powers and you’re this genius gazillionare who’s probably super busy and I…I understand that you probably don’t have time for all my rambling about petty crime in New York.”_ Another long pause,

_“Sometimes it feels like I’m just sending these messages into the void.”_ And there are several long, long seconds where Tony can hear him on the verge of saying something between his shallow breaths, and Tony knows better than to hope this time Peter says something else because he never does, till eventually the long beep that signals the end of the recording stops playing.

 

It’s the reverse, for Tony at least these messages are Peter sending messages _from_ the void. He’s spent far too long wondering what comes after, where Peter might be. Tony had never believed in the afterlife for himself, but he wants to believe in it for Peter, hope beyond hope that he’s somewhere good. Somewhere safe.

 

-x-

 

When the time comes, of course, Peter is the reason he has to do this. If there was even a small chance to get him back, he can’t not do it. He can’t let Peter down again. In the list of missed opportunities to help Peter Parker, this would be number one.

 

That one in fourteen million chance to get the kid, _his kid,_ back, Tony knows he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t try.

 

He clutches at the photo, and presses play on the last voicemail Peter ever sent him, the one he never listened to in all these years. Tonight might be his last chance to.

 

_“Hey, Mr Stark! I know I’m supposed to be on the field trip right now but there was a FREAKIN’ SPACESHIP MR STARK! So, Ned made a distraction and I jumped out the bus and I’m 98% sure that nobody saw me and I’m swinging my way over right now! This is like, Avengers level stuff right!? Are we going to be fighting aliens together oh my god this is so cool! Whoa, I almost dropped my phone. SEE YOU SOON MR STARK!”_

 

 _I hope so Peter,_ Tony thinks,

_I’ll see you soon kid._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if this is rushed and bad but it's been playing on my mind for days and I just had to get it out.
> 
> Tony Stark Deserved Better.
> 
> More works for this verse coming at some point but I should really work on my exams...ah well.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading <3
> 
> My socials at @laneboyheathens on tumblr
> 
> Kudos and comments always thoroughly appreciated <3


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